


Now and Always

by whoistorule



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoistorule/pseuds/whoistorule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon and Robb proposal, Modern AU.  (Fic for the RP <a href="http://bloodandglory-rp.tumblr.com/">Blood and Glory</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now and Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mockyrfears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockyrfears/gifts), [dalyeau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalyeau/gifts).



When Theon thought of marriage, it was never his own. Even on those days he dared hope to dream that Robb would return his affection, marriage had never been on the table. Marriage was for other people. Marriage was for people who got to grow up with the person they loved, and hold their hand, and kiss them in front of their friends. There was no happily ever after for boys whose gaze drifted low, who fucked strange men in club washrooms and superimposed their best friend’s face, who were cruel by nature because that’s what the world served them up and they were determined to give double in return.

But that had been before. Before New York, before Sansa’s party, before the months of near-constant jet lag and six hour flights followed by six hour fucks and a haze of takeaway and cheap beer and then fucking again. It was heaven, it was bliss, it too was something reserved for other people. And yet here it was, happening to him. It was Robb, it was always Robb. Robb with the wide eyes and bright smile and hand in his, dragging him through his childhood home, making it his home too. The guest room next to Robb’s that quickly became ‘Theon’s room,’ the place setting at the dinner table, the towel on the back of the bathroom door, there was even a lounge chair by the pool that was obstensibly Theon’s Chair. Much too the bastard’s displeasure, which only made it all the better for Theon.

And all of that was thanks to Robb. Robb who never asked for anything in return. Robb who got offended when those things weren’t given to Theon, who believed that everything he had was Theon’s, from his jumpers, to his homework, to his family, he shared it all without second thought.

That’s why he’s here. At De Beers. Smoking a cigarette, waiting for fucking Alys who insisted (after what was a good 10 minutes of her making incomprehensible high pitched noises into his cell phone) that if he was going to buy a ring, he do it right.

Look at me, Theon thinks, blowing smoke at the passersby, I’m such a fucking sap.

——-

It’s their anniversary, not of the first time they kissed, or fucked, not of the first time Theon got down on his knees and took Robb’s cock into his mouth, or the time they said I love you, or any other of the thousand firsts they had, no, it was the anniversary of the day they met, Robb mouthing the word bitch like his mother would hear from miles away and come wash his mouth out with soap, his fists rubbed raw, but that stubborn Stark pride intact.

The box in his pocket feels heavier than it ought to, with the weight of twelve years of friendship, of hundreds of orgasms (thousands if he counted the years of manual release, red-brown curls and that Robb Stark smile blurring behind his closed eyes), of ‘i love you’ and ‘forever’ and ‘let’s build a life together.’ He knows Robb, he loves Robb, and logically, as Alys said, there was no fucking way he’d say no. Usually he’s anxious to meet Robb, but his stomach’s full of nerves, his fingers shaking from coffee and cigarettes and the whiskey shot he took to give him the courage to walk out the door. And so he takes his time, dawdling to glance in store windows and smoke another cigarette and say the words over and over in his head. “Robb Stark, will you marry me?” he mouths at the darkened store window, but it’s not Robb that stares back but his own blurred reflection, obscured by smoke.

Stupid. This was stupid. He’d say yes. He had to say yes. And then he’d belong to Theon, really. Not partially, not conditionally, but be wholly his, for the rest of their lives. Theon may not have been the marrying kind, but he knows that Robb is. He can picture it now, Robb and fucking Jeyne, walking down the aisle, cutting the wedding cake, taking disgusting pictures together, it was a horrible image. Not Robb of course, but her, any her at all. Yes, Robb had always planned on getting married, but that was different. With Jeyne it would have been normal. With Theon?

He sighs, tossing the cigarette in the gutter. Robb would say yes, he’d have to.

——-

The restaurant’s quiet, each table an island, peppered with tea candles and six different types of fork and Theon really wishes he was somewhere with only one fork and drinks. Strong drinks. “Should we get a wine list or something?” he asks Robb, suddenly nervous, his fingers drumming against the tabletop.

“No, I took care of it.” It’s odd, but Robb’s smile falters a little, like he’s nervous too, which only makes Theon feel worse, the butterflies in his stomach turning to a violent angry churning as he plays with his napkin in his lap, until finally the waiter comes, his tray laden with two flutes of champagne.

It isn’t until he places them down on the table that Theon sees the band of gold glinting at the bottom. His stomach unknots all at once, and before he can stop himself, he begins to laugh.

“Don’t you laugh at me Theon Greyjoy,”

“I’m not, it’s just—”

“No, shut up and listen to me I know that you said,”

“Ro—” Theon starts, but Robb cuts him off.

“No, you don’t get to talk until I’m done. I know that you’re not in love with the idea of marriage and I don’t know if this is what you expected but I don’t care because as you said when you first said it, I fucking love you Theon and I don’t really care if marriage isn’t for you because I really think that you should marry me.”

The more Robb talks, the more Theon smiles, it starts off as a whisper, sliding across his lips, but by the time Robb’s finished, it’s an all out grin, splitting across his face. Wordlessly, he slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his own ring box, opening it so Robb can see the gold band flecked with diamonds that lay there, the inside neatly engraved with ‘Now and Always.’

“Oh.” Robb says, a smile forming on his own face. “Well. Good.”

“Yes, I think so.” Theon smiles and drains his glass in a sip, recovering the ring indelicately and shoving it on his finger. “Of course I’ll marry you you bloody idiot, but only if you’ll marry me too.”

Robb practically leaps across the table to take the box from Theon, jamming it onto his own finger with a smile. “Yes,” he says, twisting the ring until it settles. “Yes I’ll marry you.”

“Good,” Theon says, taking Robb’s champagne glass and draining that as well. “I’ve only got one more question.”

“Oh?” Robb eyes the waiter and motions for their glasses to be refilled.

“Will you meet me in the loo in five minutes?”

“Make it three.” Robb gives him that smile that’s so deviously innocent, so utterly Robb that Theon can already feel his cock twitching in his trousers.

“Oh I think I’m going to enjoy being married to you.”


End file.
